Mycroft Plays the Spoons
by Kiro Angel
Summary: Mycroft did not inherit his brother's musical talents. He did, however, get spoons.


AN:I know I haven't been posting. I feel so guilty, I've been over on Wattpad because I can post from my phone. Anyway, this is just for you, I wrote it a bit ago and... kinda forgot to publish it. Just a one-shot.

Okay, so I saw a twitter post by Mark Gatiss where he is asked whether Mycroft plays any instruments and he responds that yes, indeed, Mycroft does this. So I decided to do something with it. My brain threw up and here you go. Happy birthday.

Just in case you guys didn't know, I am not BBC, Mofftiss, or Arthur Conan Doyle. As such, I do not own Sherlock or any of its characters, no matter how much I would love to.

Enjoy, bros!

~Kiro

* * *

Mycroft sighed down at the "instrument," a reminder of one of the most horrid parts of his childhood. He knew exactly who had left this gift on his desk, for only his brother knew enough and was cruel enough to do such a thing.

So far Mycroft was having a horrible day. It had started with yet another crisis hauling him away from his husband in the early morning hours. The crisis itself had used up nearly all of Mycroft's energy in meetings. This was, in fact, the first time he had actually made it to his office today, having been accosted with new complications each time he even thought about relaxing or leaving the meeting room. And now this. Over all, Mycroft was having a very crap birthday.

He sat and stared down at the "gift" in its elongated cream colored box. It glinted back at him, reflected his grimace back at him, distorted. With a heavy sigh, he reached out and withdrew the object, the physical manifestation of the only failure he had ever had. He turned it over in his hands, then flicked it in his hand, listening to its clang that brought with it so many memories. He cringed.

Sherlock had always been a musical genius. He had played the piano since he could climb atop the bench. He had taught himself to play the violin beginning at age six. He was greatly skilled with immense talent from the start, and Mummy had gotten him his own personal musical tutor. She also decided that music would be a good thing for Mycroft, too, though how she had gotten that idea into her head he had no remote clue.

So Sherlock and Mycroft entered lessons together. Sherlock moved from one instrument to the next, always able to take up a new one when he bored of the old instrument. For some reason, though, he always held a special fondness for the violin. Mycroft... Well, Mycroft did not have his brother's talent. He tried all manner of instrument, yet each one he failed at more miserably than the last. With practice he might have become passable, but he so resented the tutor and his brother and his own lack of abilities that in the end he simply gave up trying.

Mummy would have none of this. She was nothing if not strong-willed and by god each of her children would play some kind of instrument. She refused to give up until he found something he was passable at. In the end he had been unlucky enough to be so horrid that the literally second easiest instrument on the planet to play was forced upon him. Mycroft had... spoon lessons. Actually, it should be said that there was only one twenty-second tutorial on how to play the spoons before Myroft got the hang of it. He wasn't _that_ uncoordinated, after all.

Actually, this was not even the worst part of the situation. No, the worst part was having to play duets with his brother. Not only was there the humiliation of playing the spoons in public, but he had to play alongside his beautifully talented brother and deal with his taunts and jibes.

Now his brother had decided to bring up all of those horrible memories. It was probably in retaliation of Mycroft's kidnapping John and holding him as ransom until Sherlock agreed to work a case, but really he was never in any danger. Mycroft couldn't see why exactly Sherlock had to bring this up, but he was going to pay when next they saw each other.

Mycroft placed the spoons back inside the lined box and closed the lid, sliding it under his arm as he left for home. He was looking forward to seeing Gregory and having a nice birthday dinner. Maybe Mycroft would even serenade him a bit with his new instrument.


End file.
